


Until we see each other again, then.

by ValeriyaQuetzalis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard, Bodyguard Romance, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Modern Westeros, NO PROOFREADING WE DIE LIKE MEN!!!, One-shot that may have a nsfw continuation stay tuned, POV Lesbian Character, Rhaella is ALIVE as she should, Sloppy Makeouts, Smut-baiting i'm so sorry, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValeriyaQuetzalis/pseuds/ValeriyaQuetzalis
Summary: After working for the Targaryen family for a year, Sansa finds herself in the middle of a party thrown by them to celebrate her loyalty and protection as bodyguard to the spoiled princess of the family, Daenerys. The drinks take control of them both, however, and they end up exactly where they want to be.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Until we see each other again, then.

“Yes, ma’am. She’s right here with me, please don’t worry.” Sometimes, even at her most sober, Daenerys acted like an actual toddler. Going anywhere she wanted to get everything she wanted, many times without asking first. And her family knew; born and raised in the lap of luxury, the youngest child of the Targaryen dynasty was infamous for getting away with her behavior, and still managing to charm people into doing everything she wanted. The gorgeous bachelorette of the rich dragon house, the mother of discord. Every bar in town knew her antics already--and although they couldn’t ban her, they were prepared for her arrival at all times. What would she do that time? Get into a fight with a man three times her size? Perhaps break a vodka bottle over the bartender? Every weekend night was a surprise, and unfortunately not a fun one.

That afternoon, though, was different. With a flight scheduled at five, Daenerys went missing half an hour before. Sansa frantically looked for her, and found the woman sitting on a bench, with her shoes missing and a bottle of whiskey in hand. She looked… out of orbit, and the redhead wondered if she was developing an alcoholism problem.  _ Will they pay me extra if I take her to therapy?  _

“Tell mom I didn’t want to go.” The blonde blurted, rolling her eyes. Her bright red lipstick was smeared throughout her chin and a little bit on her cheeks. Sansa prayed for no paparazzis around. “Volantis sucks, man. What is there to see but stinky men who think they’re rich for having gold-plated toilets? I want to go to Oldtown again…”

Sansa sighed, continuing to talk to Rhaella. She felt bad for the woman; so good, so gracious, kind and polite… how did Daenerys even end the way she did, with a mother so good? “She’s… well, not exactly drunk. She’s on her way, though. I will take her home immediately, ma’am.” She hung up and directed her gaze to Daenerys, almost angry. “Well, my lady, seems you’re in trouble yet again. Give me that.”

She took the bottle from Daenerys’s hands and tossed it into the car, motioning for her to get inside too. The woman laughed. “What? Are you gonna ground me if I don’t? I…”

“Miss, please.” Sansa felt the annoyment get to her already, but she tried to keep calm. When Daenerys got drunk she was at her most unbearable; she had thrown tantrums and embarrassing amount of times, and the tabloids had gotten rich off that. She couldn’t help but feel anger at the media instead of her protégé, it seemed like they were preying on her at every waking moment, ready to strike. “Your mother is quite impatient today. Let’s return soon so you can take a bath and rest.”

“Bath? I don’t think I will.” Daenerys smiled, standing up face to face with Sansa. At that closeness, she could smell her alcohol infused breath. “Today will be a busy day. You think I avoided the flight just because I hate Volantis?”

_ Yes _ , she thought.  _ And because you wanted to, and that is the way you do things _ . After all, a cancelled flight meant nothing to the Targaryen’s finances. She had found pretty quickly that the best way to counter Daenerys’s shenanigans was to strike back. “Miss, I beg,” she sighed sardonically. “I’m going on a two week vacation and I’m eager to leave. Let’s not delay my rest, shall we?”

The little princess laughed, grabbing her shoes and standing up. “Indeed, let’s not delay it. Lots of hot men awaiting you on Pentoshi beaches, huh? Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your success.” They both made their way to the car, watching as the skies darkened. It had colored itself of a muted blue hue, and a few stars had started to show themselves, twinkling weakly and shyly. Daenerys turned on the radio, choosing the trashy pop station Sansa had learned to enjoy, too; countless afternoons coming from the mall had she spent listening to The Bear and the Maiden Fair, a hit song from a washed up boyband who had gotten their fifteen minutes of fame many months ago and now were hidden from the public eye; sometimes, if she felt daring, she would sing along with Daenerys, although not too much--she didn’t want to break her vows of professionalism. Not that she was strict to them, but if a paparazzi were to see them…

“Miss, may I ask…” She cleared her throat. Perhaps the question would be too inappropriate. “Why were you drinking at this time? At that place?”

“Well, we gotta celebrate, don’t we?” Daenerys grabbed the whiskey bottle from the backseat and opened it. “Today is  _ our _ anniversary. Quite romantic, eh?” She took a deep swig, making Sansa roll her eyes. “You’ve done such a great job I had to celebrate. How could I leave you behind on this special day? Congratulations, Sansa.”

She laughed. “How hard were you partying that you took off your shoes? Also,” They stopped at a red light and Sansa looked deep into her eyes. “You looked like you were crying. There’s smudged eyeliner around your eyes.”

“Well, it’s an emotional day. I couldn’t have asked for a better bodyguard.” This time, Daenerys averted her face and clutched her hands together. She was uncomfortable, and Sansa could feel it. “Why, you’re leaving for two weeks, the longest we’ve been separated… I will certainly miss you.”

She felt wordless. There was a silent that felt so long and so heavy Sansa wondered how much a stoplight could last, but as soon the light turned green she could breathe again. She smiled. “Well, I’ll bring you a souvenir. You mentioned you liked their lemon cookies a few months ago, that is something I can bring. Their alcohol is horribly expensive, though…”

The princess perked up again, and her signature smile returned to her face. Sansa sighed of relief, never taking her eyes off the road. “Bring me a lemon tree, instead. We need to plant one in our backyard…”

“Do you think customs is going to let me bring that here?” Sansa giggled. “I’ll see if I can bring one lemon. I cannot and will not promise you anything, but I’ll try.”

“Then it’s done.” Daenerys crossed her legs, and Sansa knew immediately she had a smug smile on her face. “You will help me plant it, and we will see it grow. Because you will work for me for the years to come, right?” She was no expert at language, but Sansa felt that last question as a plea. She shrugged.

“Other than you getting into fights with every single person who looks at you,” she smirked. “I have no complaints. You’re a fun person, quite honestly. Even when you’re inebriated.”

“ _ Even when _ ?” She threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. “Baby girl, I am at my best when drunk.” She stretched her arms, letting out a big sigh of contempt and comfortability. Before she worked for her, all she saw were the terrible pictures in the tabloids:  _ the Targaryen princess goes mad once again; the spoiled dragon girl goes out in a way revealing dress; Daenerys Targaryen spotted with ‘strange white powder’ coming out of her nose _ ; and the nicknames were terrible, accusing her of daddy issues, of clinical insanity, of unbridled anger. If not for the pay, Sansa would’ve avoided the job entirely. How could she work with someone who may break a glass of wine on her head at any given moment? But as the time went on she understood--Daenerys was not the monster they made her to be, at least not in privacy, in intimacy. She was, after all, just a girl. The princess looked at heart, a most sincere smile on her face. “I’m glad you’re always here for me, Sansa.”

She felt something warm up in her heart, and suddenly she was smiling uncontrollably. Hopefully I’m not blushing, she thought. “Well,” Sansa shrugged, lowering the radio’s volume. “That is quite literally what I’m getting paid for, miss.”

But there was no immediate answer or giggle, just a quite heavy silence from Daenerys. She saw the girl readjust the straps of her dress while sighing. “Yeah, I guess it is.” She took another swig, this time shallower, almost forced. “I’ll drink to that. Hopefully you get a bonus this month.”

The rest of the ride was painfully silent and heavy; the music coming from the radio was still on, but she dared not to raise the volume of it. It was an extremely awkward situation, but they were nearing the Targaryen residence already: white, enormous, too luxurious to be true--but it was. Barricaded with an electric fence and all-day and all-night guards, it was quite an intimidating sight; even the richest neighbours stood in shame with their two-floored houses compared to the Dragon's Lair, as the city called it. The car stopped at the fence, and after being identified, the guards pressed a button and the doors opened for them. There was a gravel path leading to the grandiose principal doors; in the front, a marvelous white fountain illuminated by golden lights was dancing along a silent melody, giving a quite magical appearance. Anyone who tried to discredit the Targaryens saying that they weren’t rich enough was delusional; an immigrant family straight from the once first world-power Valyria, they sure knew what to bring with them once they arrived in Westeros.

A servant came to them, greeting politely. Daenerys stopped for a moment to put on her heels once again, and as Sansa stepped out of the car, Rhaella was the one to open the house doors. “My, I hope you didn’t have a difficult time for once.”

Sansa smiled. “Nothing to worry about, ma’am. Your daughter is perfectly safe… and sound in her own way.”

Daenerys stood up, her steps much more irregular than usual. “I am fine, mum. I just had a change of heart. I don’t have to leave today, see?”

Rhaella said nothing, averting her gaze, furrowing her brows. “I know. I should’ve cancelled the flight earlier. Get in.” She motioned to Sansa. “You, too. Let’s have dinner.”

The inside of the house was even more ridiculous; the walls a maroon color, with statues bathed in what Sansa hoped was just gold-colored paint and not actual gold; the great staircase leading to the second floor was of white marble, with red carpet and golden details. An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, reflecting any light in such a mystic way Sansa once thought it  _ had _ to be magic. She heard music coming from the backyard, but thought nothing of it. Rhaella entered the kitchen and brought out a wine bottle and a glass, handing it to Sansa. “For your health.”

“Huh?” Sansa did not understand, but took the glass anyway. Rhaella smiled in such a way it reminded her of her mother whenever Sansa pleased her. She missed home. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Today is your first anniversary working for us. You’ve done such a great job of keeping Daenerys out of mortal harm, and, well… she appreciates you too, surely she has told you.” She served her. “A day so special must not be forgotten this easily.”

She felt blood rush to her face, feeling warm of heart. “I… Thank you so much, ma’am, I do not think I am worthy of this…”

“Nonsense!” Daenerys spoke up, walking up to her mother and hugging her. Rhaella rubbed her back. “If it weren’t for you… well, I would definitely be dead up in an alley.”

“Don’t say that kind of stuff, dear.” Rhaella gasped. “Come, dear Sansa. Join us.”

She led her to the backyard, where the sights to the beach were otherworldly. Lights were hanging above them, and her favorite music was coming from the speakers. On a corner stood a white-clothed table full of lemon cakes and several pastries Sansa loved, followed by a fountain of champagne. She felt overwhelmed, unworthy, excited. “I… ma’am, words fail me.” The sound of people cheering came from the other corner, where the friends she had made in the city were seated. She recognized them instantly. “Mya?”

“Sure it is, bird.” The black-haired girl stood tall, her presence quite intimidating to someone who may not know her--but not to Sansa. “Your boss is quite the fun woman, I got to say. Free drinks and a party.”

Sansa laughed. She had not felt that happy since the last christmas she had spent with her family. She wished for more wine. “I thought you were not much of a party girl?”

“Well, gotta take a break from working on the farm once in a while, eh?” Mya grabbed Sansa’s cup of wine and drank it. “Myranda has been dying to see you. She’s crying already.”

Myranda appeared from behind Mya, her voice drawing the attention towards her. She went straight for a hug. “It’s been too long since I saw you! Two weeks too long, sweetheart!” She broke the hug and stared at Rhaella. “Ma’am, my friend here looks delightful in a suit, true that. But for tonight… are there any dresses available? Oh, just for tonight!”

Sansa shook her head. “In case of an emergency I’d rather stay with this on. It’s more flexible than it looks, plus… it was specially tailored for me. And it looks damn good on me.” Myranda dragged her to the snack table and started feasting. The minutes became an hour, and she felt free. A few drinks later and the alcohol started to take an effect, too; the music had become much more livelier, and Sansa suddenly noticed neither Rhaella or Daenerys were to be found. She felt like a stranger. “Hey, do you guys mind if I disappear for a minute? I gotta look for lady Rhaella.”

“Don’t go for too long,” Myranda whined jokingly, emptying her fifth cup of champagne. She tried to balance herself. “Or we will just have fun without you.”

Sansa walked into the house, trying to look sober. Rhaella sat in the living room, watching a movie. She smiled when she saw Sansa. “Hello, sweetheart. Having fun?”

“Oh, very,” She giggled, supporting herself on the loveseat. “I just… wanted to know if everything was alright.”

“Please don’t worry about me. It’s girls’ night, and I’m afraid I’m too old to party as hard as you girls.” Sansa blushed. “But I’ve been drinking too, and I’m the ones who fall asleep when they have drunk too much.”

“I see. Sorry for bothering you, I… have you seen Daenerys?”

Rhaella sighed. “She’s in her room. Sorry to interrupt your night, but could you check on her? I had a little talk with her before and… nevermind, please check on her really quick, would you?”

Sansa nodded and walked to Daenerys’s room, the floor slightly moving. The stairs warped around her, and cursed at whichever architect decided they needed a house so big.  _ Try not to throw up, try not to throw up… you can do this… _

Daenerys’s door was decorated like a tacky teenager in a coming-of-age movie; pink and blue stickers of models plastered all over the woodwork, with some magazine cuttings that said “BITCH”, “CRACK”, “DRUGGIE” in big bold letters scattered around. She rolled her eyes at the sight of it, but a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“I saw that.” Daenerys’s spoke coarsely, roughly, a scowl coming from her. The door was slightly open, and Sansa came in. “I know you find me tacky, but come on. My aesthetic is fun.”

Sansa laughed, but stopped immediately at the sight in front of her: Daenerys’s eyes were puffy, red; the eyeliner had smeared all over her eyes, and made black tears throughout her cheeks. Her lipstick was merely a stain, and her whiskey bottle was almost empty.  _ What in hell? _ “Are you alright?”

“I was when I was 6.” She took the last swig from the bottle and left it on the floor. “Now that I’m 22… well, the answer might be different. You left your girls alone?”

“Trust me, Myranda could power up an entire city all by herself. They’ll be alright.” She sat on the edge of the bed, analyzing Dany’s face. “What about you?”

Daenerys took her heels and started rubbing her feet. “Just… shitty thoughts. Drunk thoughts. You have those, too? Like, right now? Close the door, if mum sees me crying she’s going to be all over me.”

She stood up again and closed the door, not averting her gaze from her employer. Sansa felt her stomach revolt. “Please tell me.”

“Damn, mum is paying you too for therapy services?” Daenerys smiled, trying to light up the mood. It didn’t work. “I just… don’t feel well. That’s all.” She sniffled. 

“Can I help?”

Something sparked in Daenerys’s eyes, but Sansa couldn’t tell what exactly. Perhaps, if she had been sober, she could have figured it out. But with her judgment clouded and her thoughts going in all directions, she was as useful as a rock. Daenerys shrugged, opening her drawer and taking a cigarette and a lighter. “Want some?” Sansa stared at her in silence, hoping for a more concrete answer. “Fine. I’ll tell you while smoking.”

The cigarette lit up, and Daenerys’s tension was gone. She stared at the void, sniffling once in a while while avoiding Sansa’s gaze. There was something in her, and Sansa didn’t know what to do. “You didn’t… cancel the flight because you didn’t want to go, right?”

Daenerys laughed. “You’d be a damn good therapist.” She took a drag out of her cigarette. “It’s just… Volantis is not my friend. They eat me alive there.”

Sansa recalled the tabloids once upon a time, before working for her. Dragon princess found throwing up pills in a shady bar restroom; she had been worldwide talk for a month straight, and not a single good article came up for her. Once upon a time, Sansa had contributed to the gossip. She felt her stomach revolt again. “Yes. The media from Volantis is specially vicious.”

“They actually were expecting my arrival. A friend of mine told me the paparazzi were swarming on the Volantene airport, waiting for me. Last time I went there I made the mistake of going out with a short dress. Mum had to pay five grand and more to destroy pictures of my underwear. I felt so violated.”

“That’s horrible, what the hell? Couldn’t you… sue?”

“Sure, and then I’ll have the media accusing me of a ‘censoring crackhead’ or something like that. Can’t win in this life.” She took another drag. “I wasn’t always like this, you know? I don’t mean like, in my childhood. I was a pretty normal teenager. I liked going out to healthy gatherings. I never drank, I never smoked, I never got high. All my friends were nerds.”

Sansa gulped, her hands suddenly trembling. “What happened, then?”

“Did you meet my father? Of course not, he died a long time ago. Well, sources tell me he was mad as hell. Abusive, drug addicted, almost ran our corp to the trash.” She reclined to the bed, spreading her legs. Sansa averted her gaze this time around.  _ What the fuck am I doing? _ “Rhaegar is a pretty good kid. His scandals die out because he has loyal fans; Viserys likes the attention, but he’s pretty lowkey too. But then I started going out, and people saw that I was loudspoken. That I liked speaking my mind, that I liked laughing out loud. My father did that too, so of course I must’ve inherited his insanity.”

“I don’t think those are traits of insanity.”

“Neither does anyone with a brain. But for some reason the tabloids latched onto me, and every single action I did was carefully analyzed. I fought with a friend? I was unstable. I spend a little bit more money than usual on a dress for my birthday? I had no self control. I cried in public because I had been holding baggage for too long? I was slipping. So then I said, you know what? Fuck it.” She put out her cigarette on the headboard, the ash falling on her pillows. “I’ll give them what they want so they won’t have to fabricate shit. Then they won’t be lies anymore. Can’t hurt me if they accuse me of shit I’m doing, right?”

“Doesn’t sound too healthy.” Not the smartest thing she has ever said, but the alcohol was kicking far more than she had liked. She grabbed the packet of cigarettes and lit one for herself, suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety. “You shouldn’t do those things to yourself.”

“They shouldn’t do that to me, but nobody cares.” She sat up again and grabbed Sansa’s cigarette, taking a drag. For a moment, they both got lost in each other’s eyes; Sansa gave much more attention to the shape of her lips, the way they supported the cigarette. Never in her life she wished more than to be lost in them, too. “Sometimes… we want things that are out of our reach, for circumstances out of our own personal control.  _ It is known _ .”

Was she reading her mind? What was she implying? Or was there no implication at all? Daenerys returned the cigarette and stared at the void once again, biting the inside of her cheek. Sansa felt like a feral animal. She spoke. “Do you think so?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think that  _ some  _ things are out of our reach?” Her mind was a mess; her thoughts, gone. Was it even the alcohol anymore? Or was it the bomb that had been ticking too long, and now it had exploded? She put her thumb on Dany’s lips, watching her cheeks turn a slight tone of pink. “Or are we held back by… other things?”

She retreated, but as she was about to stand up she was attracted by a force stronger than her. Both her lips clashed, Daenerys wrapping her arms around Sansa’s neck; her hands traveling down her back, clawing their way through Sansa’s suit. She broke off the kiss, her violet eyes staring back at her. “It’s inappropriate as fuck, baby.”

“And yet…” Sansa gave her another kiss, hungrier, laying her down on the bed. “You’re still here.”

“And you.” Daenerys giggled, taking off Sansa’s coat and clumsily trying to unbutton her shirt. Sansa felt her hands tremble through Daenerys’s curves, trying to find any way to open up her dress. She felt her phone vibrate on her pants and ignored it, having chosen her priorities already. At that moment, there was no Mya, no Myranda, no Rhaella. No longer in her mind the two-week break lingered: there was only Daenerys, and her skin, and her eyes, and her lips. And she wasn’t complaining: it had been all she wanted. Since the times they had sung in the car, since Daenerys had cried on her lap many times, both drunkenly and soberly; and quite honestly, since the moment she first interacted with her. How long can a person hide their true feelings? As Sansa found out, not much.

Her phone vibrated again, and the feeling was too much to ignore it anymore. She broke the kiss this time and whispered an apology; on the screen, Mya’s name appeared. She bit her lip. “Hello?”

“Did lady Rhaella eat you alive?”  _ No, but I wish her daughter did _ . “Are you going to come back?”

“I…” She was out of breath, trying to hide the fact that she was flustered. Daenerys was still below her, holding onto her shirt. “Yes. Actually I will. Wait for me.” She hung up, sitting up on the bed. Daenerys was out of breath, too; her hair was a mess, and her eyeliner had smeared up a bit more. This time she was shy, timid, lowspoken.

Daenerys cleared her throat. “You’re coming back, I guess?”

“You can come if you want to. Myranda would love you, she’s right up your alley.” She held her hand, slowly caressing it. Daenerys shook her head.

“It’s your party tonight. They’re your girls and… you must enjoy them before you leave.”

“And what if I want to enjoy you too?”

Daenerys blushed, averting her gaze. A silly giggle came out of her mouth, and suddenly Sansa felt as if she was looking at something more intimate, deeper than what she was accustomed to. She loved it. She wanted more. “You will return alive. But I will miss you.”

“And so will I.”

A moment of silence passed, and Daenerys walked to her closet. Inside, she took a small velvet box with a lace and sat again beside Sansa. She took a locket from it. “One day you’ll be sick of my face and my voice. This is not a threat, it’s a guarantee.” Sansa wanted to interrupt, but Daenerys stopped her, smiling. “When you arrive at the beach and you find a cute guy hitting you up and you have a great connection with him… I want you to wear this.”

“Huh?” Sansa took the heart locket from Daenerys’s hands and observed it. It was made of gold, heavy to carry, but delicate all the same. It seemed extremely expensive, and in Sansa’s drunk hands it could break easily. “Wha-”

“Open it.” Dany commanded, staring deeply at Sansa’s eyes. She did so, and inside was a small picture of her, in happier times; her silver hair messy, her violet eyes squinting as she smiled. She looked gorgeous. “That’s my face, if you’re not aware. When a guy is putting his hand up your leg with bedroom eyes, open up the locket and show him--that there’s someone waiting for you back home, and that if he dares to mess with you, I’ll personally burn him alive.”

Sansa let out a laugh. “A bit possessive, eh? We barely made out.”

“Oh, so you’re telling this incredibly hungry make out session was something you haven’t thought about before? Or was I the only one jealous whenever one of us flirted with guys?”

“Oh, trust me,” Sansa closed the locket, putting it into her back pocket. “I bit my lip so many times at so many bars when I saw you flirt with several guys. But I don’t get paid to beat the stuffing out of horny men.” Sansa looked at her, this time pleading. “Please come with us to party. I mean it.”

“I don’t know. Do they have the same impression you did when you first met me? That I was a hopeless addict?”

“Trust me, Myranda would like you better if you were.” She smiled, taking her hand. “We’re drunk already, let’s go.”

Daenerys smiled back. “Fine, let me just take my makeup off.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yea I wanted to turn this into a smut but I'm posting this to my tumblr page where minors may involuntarily see this so... you guys are out of luck lol (or maybe you're lucky I might or might not suck at writing smut). Might post a follow up perhaps...


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